


Lie Low

by Saoirse Mooney (achuislemochroi)



Series: Potterfic [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Getting (Back) Together, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Implied Relationships, Introspection, Lie Low At Lupin's, M/M, POV Multiple, POV Remus Lupin, POV Sirius Black, Pining, Second War with Voldemort, Self-Esteem Issues, Uncertainty, Wartime Romance, reconnecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9609056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achuislemochroi/pseuds/Saoirse%20Mooney
Summary: So much has changed, and yet so little.





	1. Silently Sharing The Same Fears

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles come from _Old Friends_ , written by Paul Simon.
> 
> In this first chapter, the POV changes. _Italics_ are Sirius, normal text is Remus.

_It’s been a very long time since you’ve been anywhere near him. Longer still since you’ve been able to touch him; you’ve wiped as much of Azkaban from your memory as possible, telling yourself it no longer matters. For too long you’ve believed you’d never see him again; you’d almost gone mad from it, but you believed it. No more. Now all you can think about is seeing that beloved face again._

You have given much thought to what it’ll be like to see him again, now the truth is out. You’ve imagined it, when you’ve allowed yourself to think about it (when you’re feeling melancholy, more often than not; aching for the sight of him and unable to get him out of your head), and you know it’ll give you the opportunity to make profuse apologies for believing, way back when, he could have killed James.

_You’re almost nervous of him, strange as it seems. It’s been such a long time since you’ve seen him (you’re not counting that night in the Shack; too many other things, including that disgusting rat, were distracting you from him at the time). You’re no longer the de’il-may-care man-child you’d been when you were young, together, and in love. Peter, Voldemort, Azkaban, and everything you’d been through since has seen to that. You wonder whether Remus will still want you; some of the things in your past make you doubt everything, up to and including yourself._

Once you have the chance to give him your undivided attention, and there’s time for the two of you to be alone (an opportunity you’re adamant you’ll find the chance to create, whatever you have to do to make it happen), you’re determined to tell Sirius all the things you didn’t, in the time before. It’s more than time you put words to what exists between you, making it real. You’ve learnt that much, at least, in the years you’ve been forced to spend without him: it’s good to say the important things aloud, once in a while.

_About the only thing that has endured through the frozen years, spent withering away in Azkaban, is how you feel about him. You’d clung to it in the early days, using your love for him as a talisman to endure the worst days and as a balm for your frazzled soul when necessary. In that wilderness, you think, your memories of Remus were the difference for you between sanity and madness. So much has changed, and yet so little._

You don’t know if Sirius still wants you. It’s not as if you’re still the man he knew when you were young together. Some of the things you’ve done, since he was taken from you, are things you’re not proud of but were necessary to survive. You don’t know how to tell him about the times you sought oblivion at the bottom of a Firewhiskey bottle, or in the arms of some faceless stranger who meant less than nothing to you, or about how close you’d come to killing yourself because you couldn’t tolerate what your life had become without (because of?) him. You don’t even know whether he’ll want to stay with you. He hadn’t wanted to be without you, once upon a time, but that was then and this is now; so much has changed, and yet so little.

_All you know for sure is you love him. Whether that’s enough to encourage him to stay with you, you don’t know. But you know you can’t lose him a second time._

Love will have to be enough.


	2. Memory Brushes The Same Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As before, the chapter title comes from _Old Friends_ , written by Paul Simon.

It’s been a long and tiring day, and you’re almost dead on your feet. But you’re not giving in to tiredness; you’re damned if you’ll let a single second go by where you’re without him. It isn’t as if you’re so tired right now that you can’t do without sleep.

‘Remus?’

There he is, calling you. Merlin, how you’ve missed it. The little things are the ones you’ve longed for most; the weight of his hand on your shoulder as he touches you, the hugs you give each other, the feel of his fingers curling against your own.

You turn to look at him as he walks through the living room door; although he’s a little different (there’s a haunted, almost hunted, look in his eyes you’re not sure he knows about, but it’s there and it tears your heart a little every time you see it), he’s still Sirius. And you, although not quite the man you used to be because life has bashed you about around the edges, are still Remus.

‘Sirius?’

‘I missed you.’

‘But I’ve only been out of your sight for a few minutes!’

He gives you a sheepish grin.

‘It’s been a long time sin—’ He cuts himself off. ‘Oh, Remus, you’re _here_.’ His tone is strange, thick and raw, and he sounds to you as if he’s about to burst into tears. Whether of joy, or something else entirely, you’re not sure you want to find out. You watch him walk towards you and when he’s almost in front of you, you hold your hand out to him. It’s a satisfying feeling when he takes your hand and threads his fingers through it, making yet another connection between the two of you.

You smile up at him as he lifts your joined hands to his lips, without breaking eye contact with you, and brushes the softest of kisses across your knuckles.

‘I love you.’

He blurts out the words, almost stammering them, his tone sounding as if they’ve been wrenched out of him. _Perhaps they have._ But he’s said them, all the same. And you can tell from the tears shining in his eyes (a rare thing that, tears, with Sirius) how difficult the words were to say and how desperate he’d been to say them.

He breaks eyes contact then, nervous, and his eyes roam the living room; after giving your hand a tight squeeze for a second or two he lets go of that, too. You suspect he’s not comfortable with the ramifications of what he’s just said. To give him space, you move further into the room towards the window and wait until he’s ready to talk again. You’d have left the room altogether were it not for the fact you’re not ready to let him out of your sight.

You fall to day-dreaming; you’d had a blazing row with your father on the subject of Sirius a few days ago, and you’re wondering whether the rocky relationship you’ve had with him since your mother died can survive the hit. You end up so deep in thought you don’t notice Sirius move towards you until you feel his arms circle your waist and pull you towards him.

‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ you say to him on impulse, in a low tone trembling with the strength of emotion behind it. ‘You’ll never know how glad.’ And you drop a gentle kiss into his hair.

He slumps against you a little, and his arms tighten around you, comforting you, before you turn in his embrace to lay your head against his chest.

‘I choose you,’ you say in a quiet tone, your words meant for his ears alone even though there’s no-one else in the house. ‘I would always choose you; it was never a contest.’

His hands rub up and down your back, seeking to bring you comfort in the only way he can think of.

‘I know, love,’ he says, his tone tender. ‘I know.’


End file.
